“‘Well, ’Zekiel,’ she ’mence praesen’ly, ‘did yer want sump’n’?’
“‘No’m,’ I say, kine o’ wishin’ I ain’t come, ‘no’m, but I’se studyin’ a li’l’ ’bout yer, Mis’ Simons—an’ wonderin’ did sump’n’—frighten yer?’
“She smile den, an’ hel’ out ’er han’.
“‘No, no, my chile,’ she say, lookin’ mo’ like she useter ’gin, ‘’tain’ nuthin’ frighten me; I’se jes thinkin’ ’bout sump’n’—I oughter ’membered ’fo’. ’Twuz ve’y thoughtless o’ me—ter fergit!’ she say low like to ’erself. Den, ‘’Zekiel,’ she ’mence ag’in, ‘’ow long does yer reckon it’s gwine tek Jonah ter git back?’
“‘I dunno’m, Mis’ Simons,’ I say, ‘but I reckon he’ll be back right soon now, too.’
“‘Couldn’ tek ’im mo’n a hour, could it?’ she ask, jes ez ef I knowed all ’bout it.
“‘No’m,’ I say, ‘couldn’ tek ’im mo’n a hour.’
“‘SHE KEEP ON A-READIN’, AN’ I KEEP ON A-WUKKIN’ ON DE PAFF’”